One Hundred and Fifty Planes
by ShineBrighterThanTheStars
Summary: Annabeth Chase is always running. Running from her past, her problems, her demons. But when one good-looking, green-eyed problem walks into her life, she realizes there are some things you just can't run from. Sometimes you just gotta fight. All-human
1. Chapter 1: The Welcome Party

**One-Hundred and Fifty Planes**

Chapter 1: The Welcome Party 

Day: 1

Plane count to date: 0

Quote: _"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." ~C.S. Lewis._

(From the point of view of Annabeth)

I was cruising along the highway when I saw it. The first plane. A white speck against the vivid blue sky. _It doesn't count, _I told myself solemnly. _Not until you can see the town sign. _

As usual, I was lying to myself. I could see the town sign. It was in the distance, just a big, green graffitied blob on the horizon. I knew what it said before I my old car even rattled within sight of it. _Bryson. _My next home, my next haven, my next safe place for a couple of brief months. I had a rule. I never stayed in one place for longer than it took for me to count one-hundred and fifty planes. Otherwise, my past would catch up with me. _They_ would catch up with me. And that meant, in all likelihood, death. If I didn't die, then my life would become a living hell. Neither idea seemed particularly inviting.

I took the bare necessities, got a part time job to pay the rent and tried to make absolutely no friends, no ties, nothing traceable. It was a fragmented life for an seventeen-year-old, but it was a life. It was better than what was waiting for me if I dared to stop running.

I stole a glance at the rear-view mirror. The road stretched long and flat as a liquorice strap behind me. Checking the mirrors was a nervous habit I'd developed. I remembered the first week I'd been running. The firsts few days of this life I was living. Back then, being the paranoid fifteen-year-old I was, my eyes flickered to the mirror every few seconds. I'd almost missed an old truck pulling out onto the interstate once because I was too distracted by watching the road behind rather than the road in front. I knew better now. I'd trained myself, taken something from every old house I'd stayed in, every town I'd visited, every one-hundred and fifty planes. I could fight, shoot, incapacitate somebody with only toothpick and my bare hands. Well, maybe I wasn't _that _good. But let's just say I had pretty good self-defence skills. But as I drove down that long, straight road towards that blot on the horizon I had no idea that there are some things you just can't fight. Some things that are just too strong. And when they walk into your life, you can't force them out.

I blinked as a sign flashed by. Did it say _The Inlet? _Or was I dreaming? An inlet in the middle of the continent? I shook my head. It didn't matter. The blob on the horizon was bigger now. In fact, buildings were taking shape. Roofs and walls and windows sprung out of the ground to make the tiny town. Even the large white letters of the town sign were painting themselves across the green canvas. I breathed deeply. How many times had I done this before? So many. I ran quickly though my five rules in my head.

Number one: don't make an impression.

Number two: don't let anybody get close to you.

Number three: don't make any enemies.

Number four: don't stand out.

Number five: most importantly, never leave a trace.

Those rules were my constitution, my code. Live by that, I survived, nobody got hurt. And maybe a life like that, a life without love and relationships and a family, is a life on a path to self-destruction, but living any other way than that had consequences that it hurt to think about. I had a future that was less than uncertain, a future I didn't even _want_ to think about. My entire life was a map of ifs. If I make it to the next town. If they don't find me. If the stars align, then maybe I'll make it one day. But, in some part of my warped and broken heart, I knew I wouldn't make it. You never make after you've done something like I have.

The Tarmac passed below my car and with each bump in the road my heart beat faster. It wasn't the normal nervousness that I felt each time I moved. Not the lock-all-the-doors-and-windows-and-check-your-rear-view-mirrors kind of nervousness that had become my. norm. This was a different feeling, like something important was around the corner waiting to jump out at me. Something big.

The old car rattled into the center of the small town. I checked the fuel gauge. The little needle was bobbing dangerously low. I sighed and pulled into an old gas station. The paint was faded and peeling and the whole place looked like the smallest breath of wind would send the old boards crashing to the ground. Not that there was much chance of wind in this hot, dry town.

I leant against my old car as I filled the tank and watched two girls argue. The day was hot, like the town was trying desperately to hold onto whatever was left of summer. The first girl, of Asian appearance, had a flushed face, perfect hair and make-up and _contempt_ written all over her face. She had an orange tank-top hitched up so it showed her midriff, cut-off jean shorts and a hand on her hip. The second girl had her back to me but was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her hair was brown and pulled into a tangled braid, her hands were clenched at her sides and she looked about ready to punch someone. A third girl with dark hair and shocking blue eyes was sitting in the shade of a dying tree a ways away seeming absolutely unconcerned by their argument. Her head was buried in a battered paperback novel.

"Let me tell you something, hon," the first girl was saying, "I don't like new people. I don't like new girls. I don't like-"

"You don't like anybody," snapped the second girl, with attitude.

The first girl scowled. "Shut up. Let me finish. I don't like girls like you prancing into my town and stealing my guys."

"Your town? Your guys? What is this! Some kind of shop? Am I a shoplifter?"

"This is a very _small town,_" the first girl emphasized. "We're all _friends _here. Things are ordered, people have places. We don't like weird people messing us up."

"Oops!" the girl with the braid said with mock panic. "Looks like you're already messed up. Shame about that. And what's with the royal we? Who is we?"

"Everyone but you and freaks like you."

Braid-girl snorted. "Freaks like me? You're just a tragic queen bee desperate to hold onto power. Don't waste my time." She pushed past hitched-up tank-top wearing girl and walked into the service station. The other girl's scowl deepened and she crossed her sun-darkened arms. I glanced at her and she shot me a venomous glare. I sighed and pulled the gas pump out.

"What's your problem?" she growled as I walked past.

"Maybe you should be asking yourself that," I said coolly and walked inside. A blast of air-conditioned air hit me and I sighed. I found braid-girl standing with the drinks freezer open letting the waves of cold ruffle her hair. She turned to me as I grabbed a drink out of the fridge. Her eyes were a startling mix of green and blue with little flecks of brown. I smiled at her. She smiled tiredly and shut the fridge door regretfully.

"God," she said, "I hate small town small minds."

"I'm sure they aren't all like that," I reassured her.

"Maybe not. But she is. I'm Piper, by the way. I just moved in yesterday."

"Annabeth. I'm moving in today."

"Huh, you don't say. Where?"

"Um..." I struggled for the address. "Beacon St or something."

She grinned. "Me too. See you 'round then."

Piper walked off. I grabbed a packet of aspirin off the shelf, paid for my petrol and drink and walked out just in time to see Piper drive away in a small silver car. The other girl was making obscene gestures at the back of the car. I raised an eyebrow. Another car had pulled up in the no-standing zone. It was a blue vintage convertible, perfectly restored. Nothing like my ancient cream-colored Plymouth Valiant that was speckled with rust-spots.

"Give it a rest, Drew," said the driver with a sigh. He had sandy colored hair that was a little bleached by the sun and sparkling blue eyes. His friend riding shotgun had dark hair that looked wet, like he'd been swimming, and sea-green eyes that anybody could easily have gotten lost in. I tore my eyes away before I could drown in them. He smiled lightly at me and I returned it, but hesitantly.

Hitched-up tank-top girl smiled a sweet smile at the blond guy. "Oops!" she said with a girly giggle. "Just messing, Jason. Freaks like her don't care."

The guy in the passenger seat rolled his eyes. From the looks of it, he couldn't stand her. The driver, Jason, just sighed. "If you want a lift, get in the car. If you don't then don't get in. Your choice."

Drew smiled and sashayed over to the car and slipped into the back seat. "Alright then. I'll take the lift. It's so _nice _of you Jason."

"What about Leo and Grover?" protested the guy with the green eyes.

"They said that they'd get a lift, remember? Rachel or Juniper'll drive them," replied Jason absently.

"Rachel's-" began the dark haired boy.

"Yeah, whatever, on vacation I know," He waved a hand and turned his attention to the girl reading the book in the shade. "Want a lift, Thals?"

The girl looked up, glanced at Drew, and shook her head. "I'd rather walk."

Behind Jason's head, Drew held a hand up to her head in an L shape and mouthed _loser. _

The guy with green eyes and dark hair clenched his teeth. I stepped out of the shade of the building and decided it was a good time to leave. All eyes turned to me. Drew's features settled into what I was starting to think was an ever-present glare of contempt. I hoped the wind would change and that her face would be stuck with its features twisted like they were.

"Hi." His eyes settled on me.

"Newest freak," Drew said with a roll of her fake-lash fringed eyes.

"Actually," I said with an all-too-sweet smile in her direction, "I'm usually known as Annabeth but feel free to call me 'newest freak' as much as you like but it does sound a _bit _long for you. I'm surprised you managed such large words. But if you think you can handle it..."

Drew crossed her arms. "Told you she was a freak."

"Is that as far as your vocabulary extends? Freak? Good luck getting into college."

I turned away before I could see her cheeks flush. Just as I was slipping the key to my car out of my pocket, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see her face inches from my mine. She narrowed her eyes. "What did you say?"

"Oh, my apologies, you didn't hear? I said you have a terribly narrow word-stock, a less than average IQ and from what I can see seriously warped priorities. Honestly, I don't want to ever have to have anything to do with you. With some luck, I'll be out of this sad little town in a few months and you'll be history. So, Drew, have a nice life, and I'll live my own _without _you."

I paused. Her jaw clenched.

"Yeah, well, hon-" she started.

I sighed, cutting her off. "I really don't want to have and argument with you. I'm over all this high-school drama. If you leave now, it'll be a whole lot better for you."

She couldn't seem to think of any reasonable comeback and so instead she tried to hit me. Her hand flicked out in an untrained, unrefined swipe at my face. I dodged with practised ease, and before she could react I shoved her away from me. Sliding into the car smoothly, I started the engine. She looked slightly stunned, sitting flat on her butt on the burning concrete for a few seconds. I leaned out of the wound down window and tossed the packet of aspirin I'd bought into her lap. She looked down at it a little dazedly and then looked back up glared at me.

"I was going to use this to fix my heart, which is broken due to the fact that we'll never be friends, but I don't think I'll need it," I said. "Maybe you should just take a chill pill, a few deep breaths and work on being less of a bitch. Have fun with that, _hon." _

I backed the car out onto the main road. The guys in the car were staring after me with stunned expressions on their faces. The girl reading the paperback in the shade had dropped her book because she was laughing so much. I smiled a little to myself as I drove away, then scolded myself.

"Way to keep a low profile, Chase," I muttered to myself. "Great freaking job."

For some absurd reason, my heart was beating more quickly than usual. Sure, she'd gotten under my skin but I was usually pretty good at keeping my cool. I wasn't overly tired or anything. Still, this wasn't a good start.

I kept driving until I got further into the town. After a few minutes a little corner bookshop caught my eye. I swerved the car to the side of the road. _Perfect, _I thought. _A distraction. _

I buried myself amongst the words and emerged thirty minutes later with three books, a newfound sense of calm and a large chunk of my bank account missing. I hoped I'd have enough to pay the rent.

Armed with some books, a half empty can of cherry cola and a few boxes of possessions I drove down the road on my way to a fresh start. This was going to be an interesting few months. And still, inside me, there was this little voice that whispered 'maybe this time, things'll work out.'

Maybe, just maybe, this little, sunburned town in the middle of nowhere was going to change things for me.


	2. Chapter 2: Live for Today

**One-Hundred and Fifty Planes**

Chapter 2: Live for Today

Day: 1

Plane count to date: 1

Quote: _"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow." ~Albert Einstein_

(From Annabeth's point of view)

The house was a thing of bent boards, faded paint and brass doorknobs. The porch was a little tilted, the stone path to the front door was cracked and the blue paint that covered the weatherboards had dulled to a powder blue. It was double storey and looked about a hundred years old, like the rest of the town. I looked up at it, it was actually quite imposing, in the sort of way a wise old man can be imposing.

I pulled my car into the cracked driveway and got out of the car. So this was my home for the next few weeks. I tugged a few cardboard moving boxes from the back seat and started to wonder where the landlord had hidden the key. I went on the hunt for the little slip of metal that would let me get out of the heat. Under the pot plant on the porch? Nope. The welcome mat? Nothing. Taped above the door? Still nothing. I was just checking the loose porch step and was bent over like an idiot when the door opened. Piper leant against the door jamb and raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

I stared. "What are _you _doing? This is my house."

Piper laughed. "No, I'm renting here. I moved in yesterday. Hey, aren't you the girl from the gas station?"

"Yeah, and I was sure that I was given this address."

Piper frowned. "Better call the proprietor. Nobody told me I'd be sharing."

"So, you're not here with your family?" I said, and frowned, it wasn't often that I met another girl living alone, especially at seventeen.

Piper shook her head with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Thank god. My dad's the reason I'm here, anyways. "

She beckoned me in, away from the heat and I stepped gratefully into the hall. The wallpaper was faded, vintage and peeling away to reveal layers of time. I ran a hand over it as I followed Piper into a bigger room. The wall between the kitchen and lounge room had been knocked out, making the back of the house seem impossibly large. Cardboard boxes, presumably Piper's, were scattered around an old couch and a flat screen, which looked rather out of place, sat upon an old bureau. It was hodgepodge of random objects that had the magical ability to make the place immediately feel like home.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "About your dad."

Her face twisted scornfully. "Let's just say he hasn't quite got his priorities right. Career first, daughter second. What about your parents? What's their story, letting you wind up in a town like this?"

I swallowed, fighting the pain, fighting to keep a straight face despite the fact that I still saw my mother's panicked face, white with fear. Despite the fact that I could still feel my father's sweaty hand grip my wrist. The rehearsed lie sprang easily to my lips. "They live on the coast. That's where I grew up. I've been travelling and studying for the last two years, it's a kind of permanent study vacation."

What I really meant was: 'I don't know if my parents are dead or alive. I don't have a permanent home because there are people out there who want to kill me. I didn't grow up on the coast, I grew up in a living hell. I've been running for my life for the last two years, just hoping to get an education on the side. This is nothing like a vacation, this is not even a life.' But I didn't say that because I couldn't. I didn't say that because it was the truth, and I was a liar.

Piper smiled wryly. "Sounds like fun."

"It's not all bad. Perks include no curfews and eating as much ice-cream as you like. Disadvantages include paying rent and working for your money."

Piper laughed and pulled a jug of orange juice out of the fridge, pouring us both a glass. "So where are you going to work?"

I shrugged. "I haven't dropped off my résumé just yet, but I guess I'll go job hunting tomorrow after school."

Her smile faltered a little. "Ah, the dreaded return of the school term. Joy oh joy. So which side are you on?"

I was confused. "Side?"

"I meant, which school are you going to? There are two schools in this town. Bryson Grammar and Bryson High. BG is for the upmarket kids, the kids whose parents can afford it. Bryson High is the regular public school that all the locals go to. They're super competitive with each other. It's quite funny, actually," she said with a contemplative smile.

"Oh," I said, thinking back to the dropping digits in my bank account. "Bryson High. You?"

"Dad wants me at B Gram but I've already dropped of my papers at Bryson High. It's still a sore point in his mind."

"You've spoken to him recently?"

"He calls now and then just to make sure I haven't committed any felonies or gotten myself killed."

Commited any felonies. Gotten myself killed. My heart beat faster at the thought.

"You okay?" Piper looked at me with concern. "You went pale all of a sudden."

I opened my mouth to reply but was cut off as a cell phone on the kitchen counter began to beep. Piper glanced at the screen and groaned. "Speak of the devil. I better get this. Could you call Sally? Number's on the wall by the phone."

I looked at her with a baffled expression on my face but she was already answering the phone.

"Sally?" I said and held up my palms questioningly.

"Dad?" she said and mouthed 'landlord' to me. I nodded and went to the ancient landline telephone on the wall. It seemed everything in this house was ancient. Piper walked out of the room talking loudly to her father. I punched the numbers into the keypad, which squeaked with every digit. The dial tone sounded and after a few rings a deep male voice answered with a, "Hello?"

"Um, hello. Is this Sally's house?"

"Yes."

"Well, uh, this is Annabeth Chase calling on behalf of Piper who lives in number fifteen Beacon St. I think there might have been a bit of a confusion over who exactly is meant to be renting here."

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Well I was told that I'd be living at the same address but it seems Piper is already renting here."

There was a pause. "Look, I can't find the papers at the moment but I'll send somebody to sort it out. It's Sally's house so she should know. I don't really know much about the whole situation. Percy should. We just live up the street, I'll send him down. That okay?"

I nodded and then remembered I was on the phone so I said, "Yeah."

"All right then." And he hung up.

Piper was still talking, perhaps more like yelling, on the phone. "For god's sake, dad! I don't care! I don't need you!" she shouted. "I don't need your money, your ignorance, your _fatherly love. _Go find another hobby, I don't want to be your charity project anymore!"

Feeling like it wasn't my place to listen in, I went out onto the back porch. A splintered rocking chair sat in pieces. The backyard, in contrast to the rest of the house, was reasonably neat. The grass was only a little long and very few dandelions were sprouting. A tall, gnarled tree gave the whole yard a cool, calm feeling. A little swing made of a plank of wood and some frayed rope swayed gently despite the fact that there was little wind. I kicked off my shoes and sat down in the swing, tucking my legs up so my toes didn't touch the ground. The hot, rough rope felt somehow relieving against my sweaty palms. I leant back, looking up at the green canopy above, my legs going long. Through the emerald leaves little slices of the blue sky were visible. A white speck flitted across the sky. A plane. The countdown had begun.

I kicked off from the ground and sent myself swinging, the mosaic of leaves and sky above pitching violently. The rope squeaked like a tiny animal crying out. My hair ribbon came loose, the red fabric looking like a river of blood as it fluttered to the ground. I kicked harder and flew higher my hair fanning out around me. The world became a blur of heat, wind and vivid colors. My hands slid lower on the rope and I titled my head back until I was virtually horizontal. When the dizzying effects of this eventually became too much I sat back up to find somebody was climbing over the fence. I was jolted back into reality.

"Hey!" I shouted, and let go of the swing in mid sway, flying through the air. My legs hit solid ground with a jolt. I wobbled a little but stood steady. Now I was standing I could get a good look at the intruder. He jumped over the fence and stood facing me with a grin on his face. His sea-green eyes sparkled in the sunlight and his black hair shined.

"That was quite an impressive jump," he said.

"I could say the same for you," I said, eyeing the fence. "Only I don't know why the hell you'd _want_ to jump the fence. Care to give me a clue?"

A slightly baffled smile twisted his face. "Well, I had to get into the house _somehow." _

I raised my eyebrows. "What, so you could hide and then attack Piper?"

He laughed at my bluntness. "Excuse me? This is my house."

"_Your _house?" I said incredulously.

"Yeah, _my_ house," he said, that annoying smile still on his face. "I'm Percy Jackson. I used to live here with my mom and dad. My mom's Sally. Sally Jackson."

"Right," I said, still skeptical. I didn't trust easily, especially in the matter of attractive boys jumping over back fences with questionable intentions. But I vaguely remembered the guy on the phone saying something about somebody named Percy, and Sally's name rang a bell. "Well, I'm-"

"Newest freak," he said with a shake of his head. "Better known as Annabeth. I remember."

I found myself involuntarily smiling at the thought. "That's me. And Drew thinks _I'm_ the freak."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't take anything she says seriously. Nobody does. Well, nobody in their right mind. They're just forced to listen sometimes because she's got friends in high places."

"Don't worry, I didn't plan on it. I don't plan on letting anybody tell me what to do."

He laughed. "You don't seem like the kind of girl to typically do what others tell you to."

"I don't seem like the kind of girl to be typically anything. Now, are you coming in to sort this out or what?"

His smile got wider, a goofy grin spreading across his face that a part of me couldn't help but love. Of course, the larger parting was slapping that part silly and forcing an impassive expression on my face. See, that's the thing about my mind. It's a dictatorship. There's this little voice, the murmurings of rebellion, that's my heart. Then there's my head, the big, army wielding head that oppresses my heart and crushes it swiftly and silently until my heart's too broken to even put up a decent fight. It's my head that keeps me running, keeps me alive. Sometimes, the cold dictator might like to listen to the hopeful rebel, might like to stop running, but it knows that the rebel taking over would mean the destruction of the country. And nobody wants destruction, do they?

I let Percy into the house and just as we walked in Piper stormed into the kitchen.

"Ugh!" she cried, pelting her cellphone at the tiles. There was a crack as the battery sprung free from the back of it and went bouncing off behind the cupboard. Bits of plastic went spiralling off into all corners of the room like loose missiles. Piper swore furiously and raked a hand through her now loose hair. I crouched down and salvaged a few of the pieces.

"Great," she said sarcastically as I handed them back to her, "another thing I can't afford to pay for."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," she exhaled, "I may have said some things I regret. Apparently, my dad will be" -she made air quotes with her fingers- "'no longer financially supporting me'. Isn't that just great?"

"Which means..." I prompted.

"Means that I have to get a job. That I have to pay my own rent. That he's cutting me off."

"Gee, that must be _so _hard on you. It's not like I haven't been doing the same thing for the past _two years._ You can deal with it," I said a little cynically.

She frowned at me. "Well, I'm sorry, Little Miss Independent, but I'm used to being supported by my parents. I may not have always had the best relationship with my father but up until now he's been able to pay for me to _live._ So stop with your self-pitying crap and give me a break."

"Oookay!" Percy said loudly, stepping between us. "I think it's just a bit warm today and people are dehydrated, tempers are frayed. Let's just take a deep breath. Now, who wants orange juice?"

"Who do you think you are?" I snapped at him. "Dr Phil?"

He looked unperturbed, if slightly amused.

Piper took a deep breath. "Sorry," she said after a moment. "I'm just tired and confused. Why are you even here, Percy?"

"Well, aside from my magnificent negotiation skills, my step dad sent me to sort out something to do with the house. What's going on?"

Piper explained the situation while I salvaged the mess that was my hair and drank copious amounts of orange juice to quench my parched throat.

"Wait," said Percy when Piper had finished, "you made me walk down the street in hundred degree heat to tell me that there are two people living here?"

"You live three houses away," Piper pointed out, "but, yeah, I guess so."

"But there's always been two people living here, even since we moved out. What's the problem?"

"I can't live with anybody else!" Piper and I said in unison, though probably for very different reasons.

Percy smirked. "Well you're the people who wanted to rent here. Maybe you should have considered that. Can I go now?"

I glared at him. He was being infuriatingly nonchalant about it all. This was a big deal. I couldn't live with Piper, no matter how much I liked her. Secrets might come to light. People might find things out. And, in the end, they'd find me.

"Fine," Piper said with a sigh, "okay, I don't have anywhere else to live. Okay."

"No!" I said. "Not okay! Not _okay. _I can't live with anybody else!"

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

I swallowed. "I just can't! I'm a very personal person! It's just..." _You might find out what I've done. You might add to the list of people I've let down. _

"Yeah?" Piper said, arms crossed and hip tilted to the side.

I sighed. "Whatever. I'll live here. I'm leaving in a couple months anyway."

Percy looked at me sharply. "You are?"

"Yes, and it's none of your business why. I'm going to unload my stuff. Thanks for helping with nothing."

I stepped out into the hot air and made a beeline for the car, skipping across the hot ground because I'd forgotten to put my shoes back on. I pulled a few boxes from the sticky vinyl of the back seat and stacked them high in my arms. Just as I began the stilted trek across the hot pavement there was a rumble as a plane passed overhead. _Two. _My head prayed silently that there would be more. But my heart hoped quietly that the airport would breakdown. That maybe, I'd find an excuse to stay in this little town and let things happen. But I wasn't going to let anything happen. _Anything. _Tomorrow, I'd go to school and blend in and it would all work out and in a couple of months I'd leave this town, this life, behind. Like always. Nothing was going to be different. That's what I thought. I didn't know how wrong I was.


	3. Chapter 3: Late on the First Day

**One-Hundred and Fifty Planes**

Chapter 3: Late on the first day

Day: 2

Plane count to date: 2

Quote:

_"S-C-H-O-O-L. Six Crappy Hours Of Our Lives." ~ Somebody Somewhere_

I dreamed of blood. The dark events of my past flickered through my mind in lurid detail. I saw the blood on my hands. I saw the bullet flying through the air. I heard the screams and the screech of car tires. The smell of burning rubber. The shouts of accusation. The dark sinking feeling inside when the realization hit that I'd never see the people I loved again. I remembered the darkness of the night. Every flicker of light had seemed like a pair of eyes watching me. The frantic thoughts that ran through my head as I drove resurfaced. And still, there was blood. Blood on my clothes. Blood on my hands. Blood on the steering wheel I gripped with white fingers. My very mind was spattered with blood. I shuddered, blinked, and the dream was over.

I stared up at the fading paint of the ceiling above my bed. My body was covered on a thin sheen of sweat. If I rubbed my clammy hands together without looking I could almost feel the blood between my fingers. An involuntary shiver ran through me at the thought. I pulled myself out of the bed and padded up the stairs to the bathroom, needing to wash away the dream. Piper hadn't emerged from the room down the hall yet although the minutes until we were due at school were ticking by.

I turned the tap in the shower all the way around until steam billowed out in warm waves and I almost couldn't breathe.

It seemed only seconds, although it wasn't, before Piper was pounding on the bathroom door shouting, "We're gonna be late, you idiot, get outta the freaking shower!"

It was a shock and I inhaled several drops of water and then began spluttering. Just as I managed to tug a towel around myself Piper barged in, dressed, with her hair a mess.

"Just a tad naked here!" I exclaimed, wheezing.

"Sorry," she said unapologetically. "We have to be at school in five minutes! Get dressed or miss the social highlight of the year!"

"Social highlight of the year? I thought that was prom."

Piper leant against the door frame and laughed. "You're kidding, right? Everybody knows that the first day of school is major. You've gotta catch up on everyone's vacations."

I frowned. "But you don't actually know any of these people."

She shrugged. "Who cares? The point is I _get_ to know them. Anyway, less talk, more clothing."

Piper walked out and I wrapped the towel around me tightly and hurried down the hall to my room.

The bedroom looked more like a thrift store than a place to sleep. The bunch of objects scattered randomly around the room had a million stories to tell. I barely glanced at them as I tugged some jeans and a pale blue knitted sweater on. I didn't even bother to do up the laces of my Chuck Taylors before I shoved the entire contents of my desk into a bag and bolted into the hall.

"Piper!" I called. Her hair looked considerably flatter. She slung her bag over one shoulder and grumbled, "I'm coming, I'm coming."

"Same car?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yours."

I made a face but slid behind the wheel. The engine spluttered, coughed and breathed no more. I fed it more and more gas, thumping the pedals and swore colorfully. Piper jumped out of the car.

"Fine," she said grumpily, "We'll take the freaking Lantern."

"Lantern?" I said questioningly as we sprinted across to her car.

"It's silver," she said by way of explanation, turning the key in the ignition. "One of my old friends used to say if you beamed a light on it, the thing would shine like a lantern. It's been the Lantern ever since."

The car started without a cough and we slid smoothly onto the road.

"Time?" I asked.

Piper glanced at the dash. "School starts... Well, actually, it started two minutes ago. It'll take us about ten minutes to get there."

I sighed defeatedly. "Great. Late on the first day."

The drive passed slowly and silently. The seconds ticked by as slowly as they could, like they were trying purposely to make me a nervous wreck. Because nothing speaks 'low profile' like turning up a quarter of an hour late on the first day.

When the car pulled into the parking lot both Piper and I jumped from the car. The receptionist looked up, startled, as we ran into the main office. She made an indignant sound as we leaned against the reception desk, breathing heavily, and dropped our bags on the floor.

"Late on the first day," the middle-aged woman said disapprovingly.

"Yeah," I said, disliking the woman already, "we noticed."

She tutted and then said, with a distinct southern twang, "Well, I'll have to have your names for the computer system."

Piper crossed her arms. "Piper McLean."

"Annabeth Chase."

The woman's manicured nails tapped away on the plastic keys.

"Hmmm," she said after a moment. "Well, I can't seem to be able to find a Miss Annabeth enrolled at this school. But Piper McLean, you go ahead and head over to the gym-nay-see-um. There's an assembly goin' on. Come back here after second bell to collect your class list."

Piper shrugged and picked up her bag. "See you soon, Annabeth."

"Bye," I said vacantly, my mind occupied thinking of how the school couldn't have received my forged letter explaining it all.

The receptionist looked at me sternly. "Now what's your story, young miss?"

"I sent a letter ahead explaining that I'm on a study vacation and that I'd be transferring here about a month ago. I have all of the enrolment papers filled out."

"Ah, now I see the problem. See, we've been trying to make this fine school more modern by upgrading it eee-leck-tron-ick-ah-lee. We haven't been getting much paper mail."

"Oh, um, right. Does that mean I can't go to school?"

She laughed like I'd just graduated from clown school. "Oh, no, honey. It just means you gotta give me the papers now for me to put it all in to the system."

"You mean you have a place free?"

The woman nodded emphatically. "This school's got places to spare. What with that private school stealin' all the kids and all it's a wonder that we're runnin' at all."

"Oh," I said, and began riffling through my bag for the papers. After a good few minutes of me searching and the receptionist looking on in a bored manner I pulled the paperwork out triumphantly. She stared at the papers for a while, reading them, it seemed to me, as slowly as was humanly possible.

"Well, then," she said with a sigh, "this all seems to be in order. I'll put you into the computer system. Come back with your friend after second bell, I'll give you your schedule and a locker."

With that parting sentence she swivelled her office chair around, fixed her beady eyes on the computer screen and didn't say a word more.

I sighed, picked up my bag and trudged to the gymnasium. I caught a glance at myself in the window of one of the classrooms. My hair looked like a large blond cheerleader's pom-pom; the steam hadn't done it any favours. My sweater was rumpled, my dark jeans had small holes in the knees and my Chuck Taylors were faded. If only I'd had a beret, dark glasses and was more experienced in the use of the word 'cat', then I probably could have pulled off the non-conformist beatnik look. But, no, as it was, I'd just be the late, weird kid with the unfortunate hair. Arriving tardy to assembly looking like a walking pom-pom with ripped jeans. _Yeah, _I thought to myself, _really low profile. _

The door, regrettably, was located right behind the podium where the principal was talking and opened with a distinct squeak. So when I tried to slip surreptitiously into the large room, I, predictably, failed miserably. Every single pair of eyes, whether they were behind thick glasses, hidden beneath thick flops of hair or maybe even sea-green, turned my way. There was a heavy silence as I was examined from the tips of my scuffed sneakers to the split ends of my frizzy hair. There were ripples of murmurs and sniggers and barely suppressed giggles.

The principal coughed awkwardly. "Ahem. Late on the first day. Let's hope we can see an improvement on that, um, whoever you are. Take a seat if you can find one. Now, uh, as I was saying before the, uh, interruption, the inter-school swimming championships are coming up. We will be competing against Bryson Grammar-"

I barely listened to the principal's boring speech or glanced at his poor comb-over, I was scanning the masses of kids for a spare seat. I couldn't see Piper's face anywhere and she didn't seem to be making an effort to make herself seen. In the end all I could do was trudge up to the second-to-last row and collapse into a seat on the end.

It wasn't until I'd closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose that I took the time to glance at who I was sitting next to. Percy Jackson grinned at me. "Hey, Newest Freak. Nice entrance. Good job on being late on the first day."

I folded my arms. "Whatever. I didn't see you leaping to my defence."

"Well, I was too busy listening the the principal's _enthralling_ speech."

His friend sniggered beside him. I glanced at the boy sitting next to Percy. He had curly brown hair and kind brown eyes.

"Hi," he said cheerfully. "I'm Grover."

_Grover? _I thought to myself. _Seriously? _

He seemed to know what I was thinking. "I know. You don't meet many Grovers. I like to think it makes me unique."

"It certainly does," I said, sighing. "I'm Annabeth, if you'd care to know."

"Heard you had a run in with Drew," Grover said.

I glanced at him. "What is this? Does everybody in this town connect directly to each other or what?"

Percy shrugged. "Well, Drew has a few connections. You'd be amazed by the power of social networking. Even in a town with maximum dial up speed. Believe me, she'd be utilizing as much of that slow Internet as she can get. Who cares about actual business who need it to run? This is Drew's town."

The girl on Grover's right shook her head. "Typical."

She had dark hair and piercing eyes the color of blue sea glass. I recognized her from the gas station. She was the one who laughed hysterically when I threw the packet of aspirin at Drew.

"I'm Thalia," she said. "Most people wouldn't have the guts to give it to Drew like that. With her dad being principal and all she's pretty much got diplomatic immunity."

"Her dad's the principal? Sheesh, you'd think she'd have more to smile about," I said.

Thalia laughed and then said mockingly, "Don't you understand? The girl's just _misunderstood. _She's got so many _problems."_

"Problems is right," said Percy with a smirk.

I laughed. We all lapsed into silence. None of us, I'm sure, were listening to a word that Drew's dad said.

"God," Thalia groaned after a couple of minutes. "When will this end?"

Percy pulled a cell phone from his pocket to check the time. "Hopefully soon."

Just as he'd slipped it in his pocket the bell chimed through the hall, vibrating the bleachers. Conversation bubbled through the hall. Any final sentences the principal had to say were lost in the chatter.

"Thank almighty God," Thalia exclaimed, hands upraised. She jumped from her chair. "I've got chem first period. See ya, suckers."

"You're the sucker!" Percy called after her as she walked away. "You actually want to go to chem!"

Grover turned to me. "What about you? What classes are you taking?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm going to collect my class list now. There was a teensy problem with enrolment. Apparently they don't like to read paper mail any more."

Percy laughed. "So Mrs Cooper _did_ spin you the story about making everything electronic."

I nodded.

"Typical. She just says that because her organizational skills are terrible. She probably loses half the mail. Besides, this town's version of 'moving into the electronic age' is finally downloading Windows XP."

"Sounds like oodles of fun."

"Mmm-hmm."

The students started filing out and I stood up. "I'd better go get my class list and schedule. Nice meeting you, Grover. Bye, Percy."

They both stood up too. "I'll come to the office with you," Percy offered.

I hesitated. "It's okay. I'm capable of walking without assistance. Just because my hair might give the impression I'm mentally unstable, doesn't mean I am."

I began walking quickly away as the smile formed on his lips. There was something that was just too easy about talking to this bunch of people. Usually I was good at keeping my distance, good at making the bare minimum of conversation. Some small part of me found something enticingly dangerous about actually trying to talk them, actually wanting to. But of course it was my brain that made me walk away, made me not glance back. Made me want to cut all ties, but keep only the knots that would benefit me. Brain over heart. Just like always.

I groaned when I saw my schedule. All the hard or mind-numbingly boring subjects had coalesced into one tedious timetable. "Joy," I muttered sarcastically.

"Describes my mood perfectly," said Piper as she walked up.

I crossed my arms, tucking the sheet of paper under my arm. "I'm glad _you're _having a good day. That makes one of us."

"What's wrong with your day?" she asked with a frown.

I raised my eyebrows at her but didn't answer.

"What?" she said, almost defensively.

"Well, first off I have to deal with receptionist who can't grasp the concept of organization. Then I walk into the gym and look like an idiot in front of the whole school, no thanks to _you_. Then I discover that I've got the most crap subjects in the history of crap subjects. Sound like much fun?"

Piper frowned quizzically at me. "What? You expected me to somehow stand up for you in front of the whole school? Need I remind you that we _aren't friends? _Who was it that kicked up a fuss about living with me? Who was it that had no sympathy for me over the situation with my dad? Oh, yeah, that's right, it was you. So don't give me that. Annabeth, I've known you for a day. I don't even know your last name!"

I narrowed my eyes at her. It was all true. And if I was honest with myself, I wasn't in this town to make friends. But neither was I there to make enemies. Finally, I sighed. "You know what? Fine. Maybe you don't give a crap about me. Maybe I don't give a care about your problems, either. But can we at least try to cooperate instead of deserting each other? I don't want to end up as bitter as Drew."

Piper looked at me doubtfully and then muttered, "Fine."

"And it's Chase."

"What?"

"My last name's Chase."

She cracked a small smile. "Funny," she said, "because you seem to be the one running."

The next hour passed unbearably slowly. When the bell finally rang the droning voice of the teacher had nearly lulled me to sleep. I was usually a good student but somehow my brain was about as absorbent as a lump of granite. The piercing shrill of the bell jolted me back into reality. The teacher was busy assigning several pages of homework. I sighed and glanced at the girl next to me.

"Do you have that copied down?" I asked her.

She smiled. "You a bit out of it today? I saw you arrive late at assembly."

I rubbed my temples. "Seems like the entire freaking world saw me arrive late at assembly."

The girl smiled. "I guess so. I'm Katie, by the way, Katie Gardner. You're Annabeth, right?"

"Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. Here," she handed me a bit of paper with the reading questions on it, "I've got a pretty good memory."

"Thanks," I scanned the reading quickly. "Does the teacher always assign this much work?"

Katie shrugged. "Depends. It's the start of the term so- Hey!"

A tall boy with mischievous blue eyes snuck up behind Katie and pulled on her hair ribbon until the bow came loose. He grinned roguishly as she turned to him and darted away, the blue silk trailing between his fingers.

"Travis Stoll! You get back here immediately! That ribbon was given to me by my grandmother!" Katie turned to me apologetically. "Sorry. He's up to his usual pranks. The first hour we're at school and he's already stolen something of mine. I'd better go chase him down. I hope the rest of your first day gets better. Bye!"

Katie ran off in pursuit of Travis and I packed up my books spiritlessly. I was sick of this tired little town already. The school was boring, the people were friendly but not particularly welcoming and the house was falling down, not to mention I couldn't seem to get anything right. This day just couldn't get much worse.

By the time it came to lunchtime, I really couldn't be bothered anymore. Aside from Katie and the guys at assembly, nobody had even bothered to speak to me to my face. There were plenty of whispers behind my back and I was just about sick of it. Snickers and snide comments followed me down the hall. The eyes of girls and boys alike raked over me, dissecting every part of me with their eyes like I was bacteria under the microscope.

I trudged to the cafeteria, letting my blond mop fall over my face because I couldn't be bothered pinning it back. The lunchroom was a buzz of gossip and clattering plates. For once, I walked into a room and nobody looked up. I didn't know whether to be happy or offended. I decided on happy. I couldn't be bothered joining the endless line for proper food so I pulled out a bunch of coins and went over to the vending machines in the corner. I fed the money in robotically, one piece after the other, and jabbed the buttons dully. The machine beeped mechanically and, without much warning, spat all my coins out again.

"What the hell?" I growled at it, but began feeding the coins into the slot again because my stomach was growling at me like a dangerous dog. After a few seconds the machine beeped and spat all of the silver into my palm. Again. Fed up, I kicked it and began swearing at the thing, punctuating each word by banging my forehead against the glass. "You. Have. Got. To. Be. Freaking. Kidding. Me. Could. This. Day. Get. Any. Worse?"

"It will if you give yourself concussion," said Percy, sliding a coin into the slot and pressing a couple of buttons. "It probably wasn't working because you were pressing the 'coin return' button instead of the 'select' button."

"Oh," I said, still throwing death stares at the improperly labeled machine. I let my curls fall over my face, thinking it was best not to make eye contact. Eye contact meant human interaction. Human interaction meant relationships. Relationships meant connections. Connections meant disaster.

"Yeah," Percy said with a smirk. "Oh."

He handed me the food. I glanced down at it. "A chocolate bar?"

He shrugged. "You looked like you were having a bad day. The kind of day that means you need chocolate."

"Thanks," I murmured. "I guess I do need chocolate."

"Sure, anytime. Just remember, you owe me twenty five cents," he looked at me with mock reverence.

I laughed despite myself. "I'll be sure to give that to you sometime."

He frowned in mock concern. "I can't tell if you're serious with all that hair in your face," he brushed the tangled strands away and although it wasn't meant to be romantic on his part or anything I tensed a little out of reflex. People touching me made me nervous. "that's better. Now I know I can count on you to return my all important quarter."

"Sure, anytime," I replied, then looked away.

"Hey, Percy!" Grover waved his friend over from a nearby table. "Get your butt back here! Thals's got a story!"

Percy rolled his eyes and walked back to his friends. I stayed by the vending machine, thinking it was best to keep my distance. Percy stopped after a few steps and turned back to me. "Are you coming or what?"

"Oh, uh-" before I could find a coherent end to that sentence, Percy pulled me by the arm into a chair. Thalia grinned. Grover did a little weird wave thing with his hand.

"So," Thalia said, hitting the table with her fist. "Get this! I was in chem this morning and Nico DiAngelo, you know, the short one? Yeah, well he comes up to me and asks me out. And I'm like, how many years younger than me are you? I'm sorry, no."

"Nico's not that bad," Percy said. "Sure, he's a bit annoying at first but he really grows on you after a while."

Thalia snorted. "_After a while _being the key phrase. Clearly, my while has not been long enough."

Grover shrugged. "Give the guy a chance. Not everyone has the guts to ask a girl out."

"Yeah, you!"

He blushed. "Uh... I didn't mean... What I meant to say was-"

Thalia laughed. "Remember how we had that bet that you'd ask Juniper out by the end of summer break?"

"Uh... No... I don't remember that."

"You liar! You so do!" Percy exclaimed, to which Grover responded by elbowing him in the ribs and hissing, "Shut up, I was just about to convince her of it!"

Thalia laughed and bit into an apple. "All right, one more week and then I tell her myself."

"Oh," said Grover with a relieved sigh, "That doesn't sound too bad, it might be better to have someone else tell her."

Thalia chewed, swallowed, contemplated, and then said, "I'll also tell her that you're a gutless wonder and that you've got to get a girl to tell your crush you like her and that she should seriously see a psychiatrist if she's considering going out with you."

Grover did a strange little half-laugh, half-cough. "Excuse me? I thought you were meant to be my friend! You're meant to be on _my _side, _advocating _me not telling her she must be mentally impaired to date me."

Thalia waved a hand. "Romance is overrated. The truth, however, is eternal."

Percy snorted. "Like you believe that."

Grover sulked. Thalia shrugged.

"Hey," said Thalia suddenly, "Have you seen Rachel lately?"

Percy shook his head. "Didn't she take that extended vacation?"

Grover nodded emphatically, thankful for a subject change. "She'll be back tomorrow, I'll bet."

"Let's hope."

Percy looked at me. "You're pretty quiet. Something wrong?"

I looked at him, a tiny part of me was glad anybody had actually noticed I was there. Another part scrambled for an excuse for what was my natural instinct. Blending in, hiding, flying under the radar.

"I haven't said a word because I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," I answered bluntly.

He laughed for some reason I didn't understand. "It's complicated."

"Seems like a lot of things in this world are complicated," I muttered. Percy didn't seem to hear me.

We spent the rest of the lunch talking about random topics. They were perhaps the most different bunch of people I'd ever met. Thalia could be a goldmine of wisdom, but also a pit of cynicism. Grover was funny and a little shy but completely accepting. Percy, well, he was Percy.

When the bell finally tolled through the school, the whole room seemed to fill with even more noise, if it was possible. There was a collective groan as over a hundred teens bemoaned the education system.

Percy looked at me expectantly. "What's next?"

I dug around in my pockets until I found my - already crumpled - schedule. "English Literature with Miss - Oh my god, is that really her name?"

Percy smirked. "Miss Dickens. Yeah. Funny she chose to be an English Lit teacher. I'm taking Lit too, we can go together."

"Great," I said, and I wasn't even being sarcastic.

Miss Dickens, as it turned out, did not look one bit like Charles Dickens, thank goodness. She was around twenty-five. Her hair was blonde, and tucked into a knitted hat, despite Bryson's perpetually warm days, and she had soft hazel eyes that were full of knowledge. She looked like the kind of girl who would have been pretty in high school but constantly under appreciated because of her love of libraries and 19th century fiction. The kind of girl who flew under the radar easily, who didn't walk in late at assemblies, who was able to stop herself making stupid friendships where stupid friendships were needless. The kind of girl I wished I could be.

"So," Miss Dickens said brightly as she walked in. "Welcome. I guess you'd all know who I am. Welcome to class. I don't know how many of you actually chose this class but I'm hoping we can make the best of it. Even-" she surveyed the class, "for those of you who have never read beyond the first chapter of a book. Or, at least, a _decent_ book."

She began writing on the blackboard with a stick of chalk in big, loopy handwriting. When she'd finished, Miss Dickens turned back to the class. She'd written the word _characters _on the board.

"So," she said, and I wondered if 'so' was the way she started every sentence, "what are books built on?"

"Characters," the class droned.

"No," Miss Dickens shook her head. "Books are built on the experiences, problems and thoughts of characters, whether they are fictional or real. The world is full of characters. Every person is their own character, has their own character. We make our own characters sometimes, pretend to be people we aren't."

I bit my lip. Guilty as charged.

"That's what I want to focus on in today's class," she continued. "The different characters in the class, because we can't hope to understand characters in literature if we don't first understand ourselves."

I guess I understood where she was coming from, but it wasn't my attitude. I didn't read to know myself better, or because I knew my own character well. I read because I wanted to pretend that I didn't have the life I had, to think there were people out there who had bigger problems than me.

She handed out sheets with a series of questions on them. "Turn to the person next to you. I know - with the exception of Miss Chase who has just joined us today - you probably think you know each other like the backs of your hands. Let's see how much you actually know about your classmates."

Guess who I was sitting next to? Yeah, that's right. Percy. And I knew it. He read through the sheet of questions with a small smile on his face. "This," he said when he finally looked up, "is going to be fun."

I groaned. "I take it that it's not."

"So," he said with a voice mimicking a newspaper reporter. "Who is the real Annabeth Chase? Newest Freak or Greatest Beauty? Nerd Girl or Cute Girl?"

"Well," I said conspiratorially, "I think that's up to everyone else to determine."

He laughed. "I'm sure we'd all like to know what's behind that mass of frizzy curls."

"Hey! I had to get ready quickly this morning!"

"Oh, I'm sure."

"I don't see your hair looking flawless."

"I like to go for the roguish and slightly disheveled look."

"You? Roguish?"

"I think it works."

"Not really."

"Thanks," he said with a slightly perplexed smile. "Question one."

I groaned. "You're kidding. Only up to question one?"

"Uh-huh."

"Ugh... Fine. Hit me."

Percy punched my shoulder.

"No, you idiot. Ask me the question."

He chuckled. "I know. Okay. This one's easy. How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Where are you living?"

"You really need to ask that?"

"Touché. What is your biggest fear?"

"Spiders," I said without a pause, although it wasn't strictly true. Arachnids with hairy legs and multiple eyes might have creeped me out beyond a shadow of a doubt but there were bigger things in this world I feared. Much bigger things.

"Reasonable," Percy acknowledged. "Guilty pleasure?"

"Don't know."

"Come on, there must be something."

"Uh... I guess. Um, wanting things I can't have?"

"You say it like it's a question."

"Because it is."

"Right..."

"Just get on with it."

"Ever been kissed?"

"Once." I looked away, ashamed. Not of my one kiss but of the fallout.

He raised his eyebrows at this but didn't comment. "Dating?"

"You really need to ask that?"

"Uh-huh."

"I've never dated anyone. I don't date."

Percy tilted his head to the side slightly and then laughed. "Is this the time where you tell me you're a vampire who sparkles in the sun?"

I snorted in a rather unrefined way. "Yes, yes I am. That's my big secret. How did you know?"

He leaned in close to me and whispered, "Because I'm a sparkly vampire too."

I laughed and he laughed too.

"We'll have to organize a meeting of vampires where we can discuss ways in which to be vegetarian while drinking blood and how utterly incorrect Bram Stoker was in his portrayal of our kind," I said, feeling bizarrely euphoric and in the kind of joking mood I hadn't been in for years. Literally, years.

"Definitely."

"Go on with the torture."

"With pleasure. If you were a Sesame Street character, who would you be?"

"That is so not on there!" I said snatching the sheet off him.

"It is."

"It is," I reiterated and handed the sheet back.

"So?"

I hesitated. "Zoe, I guess. The little yellow one in a tutu."

"Why?"

"Wikipedia says she's simultaneously dainty, strong, practical and impulsive."

"And you know this how?"

"I'm just an endless pit of knowledge."

"Yep. You're one wise girl."

I smirked. "You sound like my father."

"Your father?"

"He always used to tell me how smart I was, how I was going to be something someday."

"What do you mean 'used to'?"

"I... I haven't seen him in a while. It doesn't matter. Next question."

"Five more minutes!" Miss Dickens announced to the class.

Percy looked at me curiously for a minute and then sighed. "Okay. Next question. What will you name your first child?"

"I'm seventeen. I don't even want to think about children yet."

"Fair point. If you could have one thing in the world, what would it be?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"Yes."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Just answer the question, Annabeth."

"I refuse."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because isn't an answer."

"You sound like a kindergarten teacher."

"Answer!"

"No!"

"Answer!"

"I won't!"

"Fine."

"Fine."

I turned away from him. We sat in silence for the next five minutes until Miss Dickens shut the class up and launched into a speech about characterization. I knew it was stupid. I knew it was childish. I knew the argument didn't even make sense. It wasn't even an argument, really, just both of us being stubborn. There was a part if me that new it was vaguely good that I wasn't getting to close to anybody, that this would make the break easier. Still.

I stared distractedly out of the window as Miss Dickens went on and on, determined not to look at Percy. Instead meeting those green eyes or even paying attention to class, I stared out the window at the sky and counted airplanes. Three passed in the time I was watching. I had 145 more planes until I was leaving this stupid little town.

Time passed slowly. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty.

"Alright, we'll start looking at some specific characters tomorrow. In the mean time, I want you to make a start on an essay which will be due next week. Your topic is 'identity'. Class dismissed."

I sighed audibly as the peal of the bell confirmed Miss Dickens direction.

I was finally forced to meet Percy's eyes as everyone filed out of the classroom.

He didn't look annoyed, or even vaguely perturbed. He looked almost curious. "One more question," he said.

"What?" I snapped.

"Would you..." he paused, out of agitation or lack of words, I didn't know.

"Would I what?"

He didn't continue. Before he could form any more words, Miss Dickens jumped in. "Annabeth! Can I have a word?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

I was left to stare, mystified, after him as he disappeared down the corridor.

Piper was sitting on the hood of the lantern when I walked out after school. Despite my bad mood, I could still wonder how her butt wasn't frying in the hot afternoon sun.

She unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. I flopped into the passengers seat.

"Should I ask?" Piper questioned.

"No," I replied grumpily.

"Okay."

I let the growl of the engine be the only sound for a few minutes, brooding.

"Fine," I sighed loudly. "I'm just annoyed."

"Oh, really? That's such an unexpected revelation. Pray tell, dearest Annabeth, why are you so vexed?"

I scowled. "Don't go all archaic on me, or I _will_ slap you."

"Fine, then. C'mon, Annabeth, tell my why you're annoyed." Piper looked vaguely amused.

"I'm sick of people."

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the world is full of them. You just have to deal with it."

"It's just, everyone seems to think I'm some kind of exhibit, to be examined and spoken about quietly. I'm just about sick of it."

"You're the new kid. They're bound to think that."

"I've been the new kid twenty times over, I know. But this is... Scientific. A dissection or something."

"So? Don't let it get to you."

"I don't. I just wish people would be a bit less... Idiotic."

"They're not all bad."

I couldn't justify arguing. "You've made some friends?"

She just nodded.

"Then maybe there is some hope."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

I glanced at the road. The streets were familiar. We were nearing the main road, but this wasn't the route home.

"Where are you taking us?" I asked.

"Sorry, I probably should've told you. I decided I need a job, since my wonderful father decided I required no more financial support, or I won't be able to pay the rent. I thought, since you seem to be on your own that you'd come too."

"So we're getting me a job?"

"Yep. We're getting you a job."

I looked at her in disbelief. "Oh, dear God."


	4. Chapter 4: It Just Gets Better

***facepalms* Oh, gods *chuckles sadly* I have failed so immensely. Yes, I deserve to be savagely slow clapped out of the room and down the corridor of shame. **

**Okay. You're not the only one who noticed, that **_**was**_** a weird metaphor. **

**I actually finished this chapter **_**months **_**ago but for some reason I had this great fear about uploading it. Why were you so tentative, Past Me? **_**Why? **_

**Well, here goes...**

Chapter 4: It just gets better

Day: 2/3

Plane count to date: 5

Quote:

_"I'm tired of waking up in tears, _

_'Cause I can't put to bed these phobias and fears_

_I'm new to this grief I can't explain; _

_But I'm no stranger to the heartache and the pain._

_The fire I began, is burning me alive _

_But I know better than to leave and let it die_

_I'm a Silhouette asking every now and then_

_Is it over yet? Will I ever feel again?_

_I'm a Silhouette chasing rainbows on my own_

_But the more I try to move on the more I feel alone_

_So I watch the summer stars to lead me home_

_I'm sick of the past I can't erase, _

_A jumble of footprints and hasty steps I can't retrace, _

_The mountains of things that I still regret, _

_Is a vile reminder that I would rather just forget_

_(No matter where I go)" _

~ Silhouette by Owl City

The Lantern swung erratically around the corners, tires screeching. The boulevard we pulled onto wasn't like the other streets of Bryson I'd seen. It wasn't crammed full of faded weatherboards and porches with old rocking chairs. This street had crisp paint and bay windows and shiny cars. The right side of the the street displayed houses that were large and looked as if they might have been less out of place in Beverly Hills than they did in this washed-up little town. The left side of the street was dominated by a tall wrought iron fence with towering hedges. The tips of tree branches peeped over the fence, hinting at what was hidden behind. Occasionally, there would be a gap in the hedges that gave glimpses of tall red brick buildings and wide paved pathways.

"Bryson Grammar," I murmured, reading the shiny plaque on the gate as the Lantern skittered past.

Piper rolled her eyes. "The school for pretentious, uppity little snobs."

"Oh? So why isn't Drew enrolled there?"

She laughed. "Good question. Guess it would be because she prefers the immunity she has at Bryson High. God, she wouldn't last one minute without those free breaks. She'd be dead or expelled at Bryson Grammar before the bell for lunch break."

"Dead? Expelled? Excellent. We should send her there tomorrow."

"I would if I could. Though I'm sure if I laid a finger on Mr Tanaka's precious baby _I'd _be the dead one."

"What's so good about Bryson Grammar anyway?" I asked, frowning as the hedges and the wrought iron fence finished and gave way to more of the shiny houses.

"Don't know. Most of the kids who go there are from out of town. That's why there's such a rivalry. The out-of-towners and the locals hate each other. Anyone local who transfers is automatically a traitor." Piper brought her index finger from one side of her throat to the other in a cutting motion, then laughed.

"Well," I mumbled. "I better not transfer."

We drove out of the 'Rich Region', as Piper dubbed it dryly, while she clutched the steering wheel with white knuckles, trying to compensate for the Lantern's distinct lack of traction. Soon, we entered more familiar territory. The cracked Tarmac was back and the faded paint too. It was more of the classic small town stuff. 1950s style diners, country bakeries and out-dated fashion boutiques occasionally punctuated by a chain store with something vaguely modern.

There were few viable opportunities for part-time jobs. The bake shop, the candy store, waitressing at the diner or organizing books at the Bryson Library.

After more than an hour of talking it over with different shopkeepers, reading over applications and trying to avoid the scorching heat of the afternoon I was just about fed up.

"That's it!" I told Piper. "I'll decide where I'm handing in my resume later. Right now I need something cold, sweet and full of calories. I'm thinking ice-cream."

Piper glanced regretfully at the last place on our list. "Fine. But we finish this tomorrow after school."

I wasn't going to argue with her. I tucked the application papers under my arm and ran across the road to the ice-cream parlor, Piper following close behind. The ice-cream parlor was deliciously cool, and I was blasted with a gust of frigid air, making me sigh. I brushed sticky strands of hair from my forehead, hoping the pink would fade from my cheeks soon. The air-conditioning appeared to make this place popular with about half the population of Bryson, including several teenagers who must have been my classmates.

We both slumped on the tall stools at the long bar that served as the counter. A waitress pounced on us and I ordered a sundae, Piper some kind of sorbet. Piper and I, it appeared, didn't have many words to say to each other. I read over the job descriptions tiredly for a few minutes before the sundaes arrived.

I'd only just bitten into the crimson cherry on top when there was a tinkle and an unpleasant wave of hot air as the door opened. Piper glanced at the door. "Here we go," I heard her mutter darkly. "Here comes the queen of hearts."

I looked past her to see Drew prance into the ice-cream parlor. Her hair was wet, hanging in dripping strings and she had a sarong wrapped around her middle. She had a beach bag slung over one shoulder, and I got the sense she was deliberately avoiding looking at us both. Whether out of pride or humiliation, I didn't know.

"Whatever," I mumbled, returning to my ice-cream.

Piper glared for a moment more before cussing beneath her breath and doing the same as me.

There was a slight pause as people in the room noticed the tension, then slowly conversation filtered back in as Drew moved on to the counter to order. _Probably low fat, _I thought.

The seconds ticked by. I couldn't focus on the paperwork or the sundae, I was watching Drew out of the corner of my eye. I wasn't the only one. Piper's shoulders were tensed a little and the chatter in the room was more nervous than anything else.

Drew took her waffle cone in her hand and surveyed the room, eyes sweeping theatrically. It was all an act. Her eyes fixed on the stool next to Piper and she walked briskly over, her flip-flops clacking on the tiled floor.

"Hi, honeys," she said, her voice as sickly sweet as the words she used.

"Hi," Piper said through clenched teeth.

I didn't bother wasting my words on her.

"So, Piper, _darling, _how are things with Jason?" Drew asked, her eyes wide and innocent but her voice coated in poison.

Piper closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. "What do you mean, Drew?"

"Oh, it's just I know that you've had your eye on him for the last couple of days, I heard rumours about the sizzling chemistry between you two. I just hope it doesn't bother you that he's taking me out this Friday night."

"Not at all." Piper didn't even try to smile anymore. Her hands were in fists and I thought she might just use the dessert spoon in her hand to slit Drew's throat.

"Maybe we should go," I said, getting up and gathering the papers. I put a hand on Piper's shoulder. "C'mon."

Drew watched us stand up, nonchalantly licking the ice-cream in her hand. "Go ahead," she said as we began to head for the door. "Run away, Annabeth. Keep running. And running. Just because you don't have the guts to stand up for what you've done. I hope you realize that someday somebody's going to find out why you're running and then things won't seem so hot."

I turned around slowly, my eyes fixing on her like the fix of a sniper. Anger surged inside me, but also fear, making my insides feel as though I'd swallowed several scalpels that were dicing my internal organs into small cubes. How could she know? How could she possibly know?

"What are you saying, Drew?" I asked her quietly. The room was silent, a sea of watchful eyes and open ears hungry for conflict.

"You think I don't recognize the signs? The web of lies? You're seventeen and you've ended up in this crappy little town alone with only an old wreck of a car and a few boxes of possessions. You can call it a _study vacation _all you like but if you really wanted a decent education you'd be at Bryson Grammar not Bryson High."

"You don't know what you're talking about," I told her, eyes narrowing.

"Oh? See, you're defensive. You can skirt around the issue all you like but you're hiding something."

"Everyone has something to hide."

Drew slid off the bar stool, her long tanned legs stretching out, and took a few steps towards me. "But you more than anyone."

"Maybe, but you don't have to know them. My secrets are secrets for a reason."

"I want to know that reason."

"You don't need to know anything," Piper cut in, stealing the words from my mouth. "Get over yourself. Stop trying to be Sherlock Holmes and go back to being a small town girl who thinks she's a princess."

Drew took another agonisingly slow taste of her ice-cream, swallowing as if in slow motion. "What a pair you two are," she commented, looking us up and down. "You're practically made for each other. The try-hard and the hardly trying. I'll let you decide who's who."

"Drew, I have better things to do than talk to you. There are bigger things in this world than your problems and useless observations," I said tensely, and went to leave again.

Just as I'd opened the door to leave, grimacing at the balmy breeze, she said it. It was barely more than a whisper, I thought I was the only one to hear it. A murmur on the wind. "Coward."

I turned on my heel and glared at Drew. "Shut the hell up."

Her eyes went wide and innocent again, though the vicious smirk on her lips told me she knew just how to hit where it hurt. "Well," she said. "It's what you are."

Too bad, if she could hit where it hurt, I could hit harder. Her eyes widened for a different reason as my fist connected with her nose and a small cry escaped her lips. The waffle cone in her hand tipped and fell to the floor, splattering me with mango sorbet, as she reached for her nose. Blood dripped onto my hand as I put a finger on Drew's chest. "Don't you ever call me a coward again. You don't know a thing about me."

I didn't stay to see if her nose was broken or not. I didn't know if Piper was following me or not. I walked out into the bright sunlight in the vague direction of the house. There was blood and mango sorbet on my knuckles. My t-shirt was also covered in a creamy mess.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw someone heading across the road towards me. I turned, ready to lash out, but it was only Percy and Grover. Percy opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn't in the mood.

"Say one more word," I growled, "and you end up like Drew. I don't want a thing to do with anyone in this stupid town. The sooner I leave, the better."

He was left open mouthed and bewildered as I walked off.

It took me three quarters of an hour to walk home. I didn't know what in the world had happened to Piper and I didn't think I wanted to know. I suspected Drew was getting what she had coming after that Jason dig.

By the time I walked up the bowed steps the sun was setting. The little silver Lantern was parked right behind my old Valiant. I walked inside via the living room, where Piper was watching some nineties comedy and seemed thoroughly unconcerned by my absence.

She looked up as I walked in with my disheveled hair and ice-cream stained clothes.

"You're back," she said.

"Excellent observation skills," I muttered and headed for my room.

"Annabeth?" Piper said as I was about to step out of the room.

"Yeah?" I turned, crossing my arms. I was tired, I was covered in sticky mess and I wasn't in the mood for conversation. "What?"

Piper shrugged. "Just... Thanks for kicking Drew's ass. Again."

"Whatever."

I didn't feel as if she should be thanking me for something like that, but I was in no mood to discuss the matter.

I stripped off my messy clothes and put on some comfortable ones before flopping onto the bed. The room was semi-dark now. I didn't bother to turn on the light. There was something peaceful about the shadows in the room. At least these shadows weren't going to jump out at me.

As the shadows grew longer and the sun sank lower, the stars came out. Well, at least the little glow-in-the-dark stickers that were clinging to the peeling paint of the ceiling. I imagined Percy was the one who had put them there when he was young. There might have been hundreds of them, each about the size of of my thumbnail. I stared at them for a long while, creating constellations in my mind, naming them after the people I missed and the hearts I'd broken and the stepping stones on a trail of disappointments.

I don't know if I drifted off, or if it was my usual insomniac mind playing tricks on me, but soon I was no longer looking at a sky full of stars, but a sky full of eyes. Blue eyes. They glared at me accusingly. More and more them exploded into my vision. Some blinked, some stared unblinking, some even leaked tears red as blood. The tears splashed onto my face, hot and acidic and burning through my skin. I screamed, shrill and loud and long. Not only because of the white hot pain that was scorching my face, but because of the knife that was twisting in my gut. Guilt and regret hurt me more than any superficial injuries ever would.

Then, the whispers began. Soft murmurs in the beginning, slowly working up to a deafening crescendo. I knew my own screams had joined the cacophony not because I could hear it but because I could feel my throat being rubbed red raw. I couldn't take it any more. I had to get away. I rolled out of the bed, barely noticing the dull pain that shot through my shoulder as I fell, it was nothing in comparison to the agony that permeated every other part of my body. The whispers followed me as I slid out of the window and ran to the Valiant. I knew I must be dreaming because the car started on the first go, and I found the key on the passenger seat.

I gunned the engine and sped off down the dark road. All I could think was if I drove as fast as possible maybe I could leave the guilt, the staring eyes and the deafening whispers behind. I didn't know how wrong I was. I didn't know that I'd be staring into those haunting eyes all too soon. This fire I began was no where near out.

I woke up to the early-morning sun making the insides of my eyelids red and warming the skin on my arms that was cold as ice. For a few moments I felt safe and warm, before reality hit. I sat up abruptly and uttered a word that could definitely not be repeated in a place of worship. My head hit glass and I gasped. Wait... glass?

I took in my surroundings and circumstances. I was sitting in the driver's seat of my car. The key was in the ignition. The road was an endless stretch in either direction. My feet were bare, my hair a hopeless tangle. Scratches ran up both of my arms, bloody splotches gouged out by my own fingernails. My cheeks were wet with my own tears. Worst of all, I was wearing only a camisole and boy shorts.

There I was, alone on a road in the middle of nowhere in my underwear. Absolutely fantastic. I slammed my fists against the steering wheel and went to reach for my phone to call somebody, but it wasn't on the console. It just got better. No communication either.

I looked out the window for landmarks. There, in the distance, the ugly green splotch. Perhaps I wasn't as far from humanity as I'd thought. I sighed and turned the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. It was a mystery how the old wreck was still running, but it was, so that counted for something.

It scared me how shaky my hands were. Not to mention the tears on my cheeks. I wiped the wetness from the side of my face and clamped my hands firmly on the steering wheel. I wasn't going to let a stupid dream scare me. I'd made a promise to myself months ago that I would never cry over something that didn't matter. And so far I'd held myself to my word.

In a little over a quarter of an hour I pulled up to the intersection in the middle of town. I was minutes away from home. All I could do was pray nobody saw me. It seemed that all negative forces in the known universe were working against me today. I sat at the lights, drumming my fingers nervously against the wheel.

Just my luck, a couple of kids from Bryson High happened to be crossing as I sat there. A few walked by, unaware. It took a couple of casual glances on their part before they realized who I was and a good ten seconds of staring before they began to wonder why I was driving down main street in little but an undershirt at this time of the morning. All I could do was thank heavens humans hadn't been given the gift of x-ray vision or I'd be in deep trouble. When the light flashed green I gunned the engine and sped home.

When the Valiant pulled into the drive, I noticed Piper's Lantern was gone. It looked like I'd be late on the second day, too. Oh, how I was loving this day already.

Now the main problem was the dash from the car to the house. I clutched my keys in one hand and held the car door handle in one hand, waiting for a gap in the traffic. When the gap came I yanked the door open and raced across the lawn barefoot. There were mere seconds in which I had to get through the door. I shoved the key in the lock, twisting it with savage desperation. The door wouldn't open. The heat and humidity had made the wood expand and it wouldn't budge. Any second now someone was going to say...

"Annabeth, what on earth are you doing?" asked a voice from behind me.

"Oh, hell," I muttered and banged my head against the door.

"Huh?" said Grover.

"I said, 'oh, hello'," I lied and turned to face the boy.

"Right... did you want some help with that?"

"I can get it," I said, and rammed my shoulder into the old wood, which produced little result apart from creating yet another aching muscle.

"Here," Grover said, walking quickly across the lawn and jumping up the porch steps. He twisted the knob, expertly prising the buckled wood away from the frame so the entrance opened up. He gave a satisfied smile as the door swung open.

"Thanks... How did you do that?" I asked, amazed.

He shrugged. "I've been coming to this house for a while. Percy and I have been friends for years. When we were younger we developed a system for opening the door when the weather got like this. Sometimes, if you jiggle the lock, you don't even need a key."

"That's genius."

"We only did it so Sally would bake us cookies."

I laughed at the thought of a young Grover and Percy watching with wide eyes as a tray of cookies came out of the oven.

There was an awkward silence as I think Grover became acutely aware that I was wearing only underwear. He went very pink very abruptly and started speaking faster than usual. All his words were strung out in one badly punctuated sentence. "Well I'd better um let you go and get dressed I guess I'll see you at school today bye."

"Grover!" I called as he crossed the lawn.

He turned but continued walking backwards rapidly. "Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"The door or the, um...?"

"Neither!" I called and ducked inside before any passerby with a camera phone and Internet access happened to see me.

By the time I had showered and thrown on some clothes and willed the Valiant all the way to school the clock had ticked past nine. My class was half way through biology. Once I'd endured a lecture from Mrs Cooper about 'better time management' and received my late pass I trudged to class.

Predictably, the class erupted into cascades of whispers when I stepped in the room. Word had gotten round already about the fight with Drew and, presumably, my morning drive down main street. I hoped it wasn't anything more than that.

There was nobody in this class that was going to stick up for me, so I had to sit through a spiel on the balance of salts in freshwater amphibians while people with a constant buzz in the air. No matter how hard the teacher tried, she couldn't get the students quiet. The rumor mill was spinning furiously.

When the bell sounded and the students burst from their classrooms like soda erupts from a shaken can, I thought I could get away. But the whispers followed me everywhere I went, just as the whispers had haunted my dreams last night.

I walked into the cafeteria, and the situation seemed to only get worse. The room fell quiet abruptly, all heads swiveling towards me like eerie clowns in a haunted funhouse. Even the lunch lady was staring. My shoes echoed on the floor and the beep of the buttons was impossibly loud as I got a drink from the vending machine. I scanned the masses, my eyes finding Thalia and Percy and Grover. Drew didn't seem to be there. She was probably recovering from her _great trauma. _Or perhaps having cosmetic procedures on the nose I may or may not have broken.

It was like a walk of shame. The clown's eyes followed me as I walked. I pulled the chair out with a squeak and took a seat.

"Hi?" I said like it was a question to the bunch of people who had been some of the only remotely friendly human beings in this town since I'd arrived.

"Hi," all three of them repeated in unison. There were a few moments more of tense silence before it became unbearable.

"Oh, for god's sake!" I stood up abruptly and surveyed the crowd. "What is your problem?"

No reply.

"Is it because I'm the new kid? Is it because I punched out your local socialite? Well, I'm _sorry _but she's not all sweetness and light either."

There was a ripple of mutters through the crowd, the only sign that they weren't, in fact, haunted carnival games. Somehow, this just angered me more. Sick of wasting my words and my time on these idiots, I exhaled loudly and picked up my bag.

"Well, nice knowing you all. That is, if nice means decidedly unpleasant. Let's hope we never meet again."

The clown faces with their wide eyes and open mouths followed me as I stalked from the cafeteria, intent on never returning.

Bryson was beginning to look like the only town I'd leave without counting one-hundred and fifty planes. And if I did leave, I wouldn't regret it one bit.

**By the way, if you take the time to read these Author's Notes: it would be a very good idea to go back and re-read the past chapters for 150 Planes because I've made some minor alterations. Not like SUPER HUGE PLOT ALTERING CHANGES (*cough* hence... 'minor'). I just think that it would be really good because I needed to fix up a few things in terms of characters and clarity and now all shall be... Clearer? I don't know where that sentence was going. All the same... Please? **


	5. Chapter 5: Finding, Losing, Remembering

Chapter 5: Finding, Losing, Remembering, Forgetting 

Day: 3

Plane count to date: 5

Quote: 

_"The question isn't who is going to let me, it's who is going to stop me." ~ Ayn Rand_

I pulled the Valiant into the drive and jumped out of the car, determined that I was going to make a break for it and leave this one-horse town behind. I wanted to get away from the heat, away from the accusation, away from the small minds that inhabited this small town. I was disappointed in Grover and Thalia and Percy. At first they'd seemed like something, like they were different. But that was like everything else in my life; an illusion created with smoke and mirrors. I guess I couldn't blame them for seeming to be something they weren't. After all, that was what I did every single day of my life

The house was warm as ever, the mess I'd come to call a bedroom stifling. My clothes were strewn about the place because I hadn't bothered to order the closet. The walls were bare and the bed unmade. It didn't feel like home. But then, nowhere ever really did. It was the people who made a place home and I didn't have any people to make my house a home.

I pulled a few cardboard boxes from the corner of the room and started shoving possessions into them. A floral dress. A dagger-shaped trinket. A bottle of sea water from a town I'd stayed in by the ocean. An architecture book. An orange t-shirt. A plain, unopened envelope which I dismissed as an old bill. I'd already moved on to tossing a deck of playing cards into the box when I began to wonder why the envelope was unmarked. It had no seal on it identifying the letter as being from an energy provider or gas company. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed odd that I'd have blank envelope lying about.

I dug the letter from the mess in the box and split the seal. I half expected it to contain a death-threat with pasted letters cut from glossy magazine pages. The envelope, it turned out didn't contain a letter, but a map.

The map was the cheap kind you find in droves at gas stations. The kind that's in the form of a pamphlet with a little star showing the location of every single Holiday Inn or Marriott Hotel in the entire country. But I didn't care about the stars. I cared about what was scrawled in black marker on the map.

A small point was circled. I knew that point. I had the dark memories that told me everything I needed to know about the place marked there. Beneath the circled area was written, all in capital letters:

_THIS. IS. WHY._

And it was why. That point was why I was running. That point was why I counted one-hundred and fifty planes in each town. That point was why my life was like this. That simple point send shudders through me. Shudders of anger, of fear, of grief.

As far as I could tell, I was the one who had marked the map. A while ago too. The shaky handwriting and the fingerprints marked out in dried blood on the bottom of the page told just when. I shivered despite myself because I knew whose blood that was. Parts of that night were still as clear as if yesterday had been the day my world had fallen to pieces, that was evident in my vivid dreams. But other parts of the night were only blurs of colours and shapes and sights and sensations. It was hardly surprising I'd forgotten details like this.

There was one more thing in the envelope that fell into my lap. It was a picture. A picture of a man with kind brown eyes and blond hair. A picture of a woman with my gray eyes and a smile like mine. A picture of a baby with its mouth open in silent laughter who fit perfectly in the arms of its parents. A picture of a family who had stolen a picture in a place where photos were burned. The bottom right corner of the photograph was ashy and crumpled, as if somebody had tried to destroy it. Somebody had tried to destroy that family. And they might not have been able to destroy the photograph, but they'd sure been able to tear apart the people in it.

I wanted to cry over the photo. I certainly felt broken enough inside to collapse on the outside. But I didn't cry. I'd sobbed for days over this, rivers worth of tears had run down my cheeks. But I didn't cry anymore. I ran. I fought to prove that I could be something, that my ending could be worth more than my beginning.

And I'd spent the last couple of days all riled up over a few inconsequential people. I didn't need them. I had my pride. I wasn't a coward. What did I care what they said? I came to this town to learn, to live, to have the life I'd been denied. And I planned to live it, whether or not they approved.

I tacked the map and the photograph on the wall. The photograph over the top of the black circle. Because that black scribbled point on the map wasn't why. The family on top of it was the reason why. _That was why. _

I spent the rest of the day swinging on the little rope swing in the backyard and working on my English Lit essay. The topic was _Identity. _I figured I would write about it in the context that our identity is only what we make it, not what others make it. That although others may influence us, it is our choice to be influenced and to be made into what others want us to be. It is up to us who we are, not up to others. When I got bored with that, I read a little of a new book I'd bought. The supernatural themes were a little far-fetched but it was

amusing all the same.

I could have returned to school, but I wasn't really feeling like facing the consequences. I'd go back tomorrow. Instead, I wrote and read and counted planes religiously. I had five more for my tally by the time Piper arrived home. She came out onto the back porch sipping lemonade.

"I half expected you to be gone by now," she said, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge so the tips of her toes just touched the grass.

"Half?"

"You're too proud to go down without a fight."

I didn't quite know what to say to that, so I just shrugged and asked, "Do you know what happened to Drew after I left? Was her nose actually broken?"

"No, unfortunately. Your sucker punch wasn't quite hard enough. She just bled a whole lot and swore at me a lot and then ran home to Daddy. Her delicate nose is still intact and free to be poked into everyone else's business, as usual."

"You didn't get her back for insulting you about Jason?" I raised an eyebrow.

She laughed a laugh that was part snort, part nervous giggle and almost all fake. "Hardly. He can date who he likes. I've known him for, what, three, four days? I don't believe in love at first sight."

I didn't mention the fact that that didn't seem to be her reaction in the heat of the moment. It sure seemed like she cared who Jason dated. All I said was, "Okay," and returned to my book.

"Look..." Piper said tentatively after a moment. "I don't want to ask this, and I'm not being like Drew, it's just... Well, are you really running from something?"

I didn't look at her for a moment, preferring to stare up at the canopy of green leaves above my head. I could have lied. I could have gotten angry at her for being curious. I could have dismissed her as just like the rest of them. But all I did was nod. Piper didn't ask me to elaborate she just breathed in, then out, then nodded, then stood up and went inside to get more lemonade. And for that I was thankful.

I went back to my far-fetched book and the warm breeze gently swung the swing back and forth, back and forth. Then abruptly, I was pitched high in the air, with more strength than the lazy afternoon wind had. I couldn't twist to see who had pushed me so I had only one option. I let go of the swing, my book flying from my lap, and jumped into the air. I landed in a crouch, my hand between my feet. Only then could I face the offender - or in this case, _offenders. _

Percy and Grover were doubled over in fits of laughter, and Thalia stood by them, sniggering also.

I stood up slowly. "Are you going to make a habit of sneaking over my back fence and scaring the fiery hell out of me or what?" I grumbled, brushing grass from my hands.

Percy stifled his laughter. "I will if you make a habit of landing like part-girl, part-ninja, part-cat."

"I don't plan to," I muttered, gathering my book and the folded piece of paper I'd been scribbling my essay on that now served as a bookmark.

"What's the commotion?" asked Piper, leaning against the door open back door with another glass of lemonade in her hand. She handed one to me.

"Nothing, just some crazy psychos committing break and enter," I replied.

"Should we invite these crazy psychos in and offer them lemonade?"

"No," I muttered.

There was a chorus of 'yes' all around, and Piper disappeared into the house.

"I don't think it's technically break and enter if, one, you don't actually break anything or enter the house, and two, if the house actually belongs to you," Percy pointed out.

"What are you now? A billionaire?" Thalia questioned and sat on the swing, winding her arms in the rope. "You own your own home at seventeen?"

"I swear there are people out there like that," Percy said. "But, I did grow up here for, like, thirteen years of my life. So it's mine."

Thalia shrugged. "Not really, but whatever."

Grover coughed awkwardly. Percy looked at him, a small, amused smile forming.

I looked between them. "Is there a specific reason you're here?" I asked, taking the cough and the smile as a sign. "Dear god, please tell me you aren't going to ask me out. Grover, you're a nice guy but I'm not really-"

"No!" Grover squeaked. "It's nothing like that..."

"So what is it, then?" I asked, taking a sip of my lemonade.

"Yeah, what is it?" asked Piper, placing a jug on the porch and taking a seat on the buckled steps.

"You know how everyone was kind of staring at you today?" Grover looked somewhat pained. Percy's amused grin was mirrored on Thalia's face, although she looked on the verge of a laughing fit.

"No, I didn't notice it at all. Nor did I notice that whispers spread like the plague when I walked through the corridors, or that I was treated with absolute contempt by everybody. I just felt a little under the weather so I thought I'd storm out of the cafeteria- _yes, I noticed." _

"Yeah, of course you did. Stupid question-" he paused, like he was trying to figure out how to go on.

"Spit it out," I said, and raised the glass to my parched lips again.

"You see. Um, they think that you and I-" Grover began, then paused again.

"Oh, for god's sake," Percy muttered, then turned to me. "Grover is being awkward because he doesn't want to tell you that there is a rumor - a _possibly_ untrue rumor - going around the school that you slept with Grover."

I sucked in a breath. Unfortunately, that breath came with a lungful of lemonade. I coughed and spluttered, all the while shaking with uncontrollable laughter.

"Possibly?" I heard Grover say.

"Sheesh." Piper slapped my back. "I knew you'd be surprised but I didn't expect you to inhale a chilled beverage. Calm down."

I wheezed and spat what my lungs would give back of the drink all over the lawn.

"Let's hope the grass has a sweet tooth," Thalia murmured, and I could hear thin amusement in her voice.

I looked up to find Grover scratching his head and Percy laughing.

"How, how did you-" I tried, though my voice sounded less like me and more like a bullfrog on the brink of death.

"I think," Piper surmised, "that what our dear blond friend is trying to say is 'how did you find out?'"

Grover looked more upset than embarrassed at this. "I tried to ask Juniper out and she laughed in my face and told me she'd never go out with me while I was sleeping with other girls."

"Shame," Thalia leaned back on the swing. "See I didn't even have to talk to the girl to make her dislike you. You have a gift, it seems."

"Shut up, Thals," Grover muttered and plopped on the grass dejectedly. "I never had a chance with her anyway. What am I going to do?"

My voice was beginning to sound less like a dying amphibian, so I could speak up and say, "How did anybody get that crazy idea in their head? No offence Grover, aside from the fact I don't know you well, I wouldn't be caught dead in a bed with you."

"None taken," he replied miserably.

"Drew was taking a morning drive down Beacon St on her way to the nose doctor or whatever, and she happened to glance at house number twenty and see Grover standing with you at your doorway, with you... not really dressed," Thalia said, with a quirk of her lip. "She filled in some very large gaps and came to the conclusion that Grover must have been leaving you house after spending the night. Then she concocted some far-fetched story about a torrid love affair. A single tweet and the whole school goes mad."

"See, this is the issue, how can these people think that I was at home, ahem, doing... stuff, if I was driving down main street? Inconclusive damn people," I grumbled.

"Because they're a moronic bunch of idiots," Piper supplied helpfully.

"And they'll believe anything," added Thalia.

Percy raised his eyebrows. "You were driving down main street in you underwear?"

I found myself blushing. "No," I said hotly, then clarified, "well, yes, I suppose I was. But there is an excellent reason."

"Please." Thalia was swinging on the swing now. "Enlighten us."

The reply died on my lips. It was true, I had a perfectly good reason. Only, how was I meant to express the fact that almost every night I had dreams of my horrifying past and the people I'd let down still haunted me? I couldn't very well tell them blue eyes blinked at me from the ceiling, accusing me of terrible acts. I could't tell them anything.

"I don't really want to talk about it."

Percy smirked. "For the love of god, do not tell me that you're running away from a colony of crazy nudists who hate you for your preference to wear underwear than not."

I couldn't help but laugh. I was both relieved and concerned about where this conversation was headed.

"Oh, yes, because that is a perfectly logical explanation." I rolled my eyes.

"Crazy nudists," Thalia muttered absently. "But seriously. Why can't you explain this? It seems quite simple."

"Yeah," Grover agreed, looking up, "Do you, like, sleepwalk or something?"

I bit my lip. "Sort of."

Piper set the glass of lemonade in her hand down beside her. I could feel the cool it radiated. "You have nightmares, don't you? Vivid ones. So you must sleepwalk."

I looked at her sharply. "How would you know?"

"It's not like I don't hear you. Sometimes you scream like somebody's driving a knife through you heart," Piper said quietly. I didn't tell her that sometimes it felt like they were. "Also," she continued, "that first night you stayed here, you woke up looking like you'd spent the night at Dracula's castle. It's not that hard to spot. Everybody has nightmares sometimes."

I didn't have much to say to that so I just looked away. I didn't want to see the pity in their eyes.

"Have you been having nightmares since you were young or what?" Thalia asked.

I shook my head. "Only these past couple of years."

"Is there a reason?" Grover asked.

"Not really." The lie was more easily seen through than glass. Everyone knew it, but nobody commented.

"Can you go to a doctor or something?" Piper asked.

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. I've tried before. I can almost drink the pills, and still they don't work.."

The yard was silent.

Grover let out a low, long, miserable groan. "Well." He sighed. "It's all well and good that we know _why. _And I'm very sorry for your nightmares, Annabeth, I'm sure it's _tons _of fun. But it's still doesn't answer the question, _what the hell am I going to do? _I'll never be able to face Juniper again. The whole school thinks I'm an idiot."

Percy looked between me and his friend, an I'm-up-to-something smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I have an idea."

Thalia looked up to the sky beseechingly and groaned. "God help me, Percy has an idea."

"Hear me out," he said, the smile getting wider. "So you say these people will believe anything, right?"

"Yes." Thalia narrowed her eyes. "What are you getting at?"

"Well, why don't we play them on that?"

Her narrowed eyes widened. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." If possible, that troublemaker smile got larger.

"Oh, man." Grover put his head in his hands. "This is going to be so-"

"Fun!" Percy interjected. The smile was still there.


	6. Chapter 6: Perpetual Night

**Thankyouthankyouthankyou for your lovely reviews! It made me so wonderfully happy! You're so, so, kind! I hope I can live up to your praise. **

Chapter 6: Perpetual Night 

Quote:

_"Living in perpetual night, you cannot harm_

_Me, nor any man else that sees light." ~ Oedipus Rex, Sophocles_

The doors were tall, golden, imposing. Like the gates of heaven, though some would say they lead straight into hell. No sound escaped them, nothing at all. Whether you whispered your secrets in the room on the other side or shouted them, the only people to watch were the paintings and tapestries.

Two young men, one blond, one dark-haired, glanced at each other before they took hold of the enormous handles and forced them open.

The first sounds that reached their ears were the screams. The doors groaned, then silence. A soft crackling began, and another series of agonized shrieks rang out. With a puff of stale air, the golden gates were sealed.

From the tenebrous realms of the hall came a soft laugh. "Welcome, boys. Come in."

A tense look and a small nod was all they shared before they began their descent into the shadows.

An embroidered Atlas hoisting the weight of the world watched their cautious steps. Marble and golden stitching glinted in the light of votives burning low. Scuttling creatures hidden by darkness whispered evil things. The crackling came again, and more screams.

As the blond and the ebony haired boy approached, it became obvious that about halfway down the hall, the gloom was broken by a shaft of light. The light filtered down from a hole in the roof. Illuminated by the shafts of sunlight was a man. He was curled in a shuddering ball on a bronze platform suspended by elaborate metalwork over a deep dark hole. Another man, presumably the source of the thunderous voice, stood just back, his face veiled by the gloom. The only clue to his existence were two glittering gray eyes.

He directed his next question to the young men standing across the abyss from him. "Are you familiar, boys, with the plays of the great playwright Sophocles?"

"No, sir," the two young men mumbled together, heads bowed.

"Oedipus!" he shouted suddenly. "Was fated from birth to murder his own father and marry his own mother. He did. He may have done it unknowingly, but he did. And it brought disease and destruction upon his kingdom. It was his own blindness, and his hubris that brought him down. Do you know where I'm going with this, boys?"

"Yes, I do," the blonde boy murmured, eyes downcast, the dark-haired boy echoed his words.

"We do not want hubris bringing our kingdom down. We need to put this fire out. We need to defy the word of the oracle."

"Yes," the young men agreed quietly.

"I tried-" wheezed the shuddering man.

There was another crackle, and a blue spark in the darkness. The man lunged from the shadows, his figure illuminated briefly by the shafts of sunlight. His dark hair hung lank and his chin was shadowed with the beginnings of a beard. His suit, however, was impeccably gray, as always. In his right hand he held what seemed like a crackling pole of electricity, which he plunged it into the stomach of the illuminated man. The victim's tortured screams echoed around the hall, the boys and the tapestries looked on in horror.

"Need I remind you," said the man as he retracted the pole. "That you failed to find the single biggest threat to our society?"

"I-I'm sorry," came a hoarse whisper from the man on the platform. "A-All I wanted... Was v-vengeance... F-for my f-father..."

"You had two years. I told you not to come back until you had her. Yet here you are. You had the gall-"

"I'm sorry!" he barked and lapsed into heaving sobs. "I'm so sorry!"

The soft laugh came again. "No apologies, no forgiveness, only punishment."

The pole crackled with electricity again, and he raised it above his head. In a swift and savage blow, the man is sent tumbling over the edge of the bronze platform. There was no sound when he hit the bottom, if ever. He didn't even scream.

The man threw his weapon into a corner. It flickered, then dulled, like a fluorescent light turned off.

The two boys sank low as their master came into full view. His hard gray eyes surveyed his servants.

"Now you know," he said. "Why I chose to take the name of the most powerful god of the Olympians."

The boys murmured their assent.

From the breast pocket of his silver suit-coat the man of power produced a photograph. It was old, and the blond couldn't help but think with a slight twinge that her face would be so different now. But, no doubt, there would be no mistaking that smile. So like her mother.

"Go," was his final instruction, and it echoed through the cavernous room. "Find Athena's daughter."

**Hooray for plot development! Write soon... Hopefully. **


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